


All By Herself.

by iamavacado



Category: My characters - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: ? - Freeform, Bank Robbery, Comedy, F/F, Jail, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Fiction, POV Original Character, Sexual Undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamavacado/pseuds/iamavacado
Summary: Talc is a bank robber. She robs banks and makes bank with her girlfriend, Grad. But now that Grad is in jail, how will she pull this off by herself?





	All By Herself.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first major original work. Talc is a favorite of mine and I hope if you take the time to read this story, you will enjoy it.

Talc squinted at the glass doors of the bank, trying to peer through them. The inside was bustling with people walking this way and that, talking with this and that person, and going up to the counter, making plenty of deposits. Talc smiled mischievously, turning the gun over in her hand. She was already in her groove, ready to bound through the doors and get what she was after.

"Alright Grad, what's the--" Talc looked over at the passenger seat, expecting her long time partner to be sitting there like she always was. But she wasn't. Jail. Right-- "...time." She was so used to having Grad next to her that she often forgot that she'd been alone for the past few weeks.

Talc checked the time herself, sighing at the absence of her partner. It was five minutes to three. She smiled. Right on time.

At three o'clock, the security guards took off for lunch. Same time every day. Quite a lax security system if you asked Talc. If it were up to her, she'd make sure her guards took a different lunch every day, always varying the times so any spying criminal (like herself) wouldn't be able to pinpoint a time where they could get in and take over the place without being stopped. She'd also make sure it was definitely after hours when her workers opened up the vault and put in the money for the day. And have a security button under the desk.

If she didn't really care about anyone's well-being but her own, she'd have probably become a pretty good security aid.

But then that would hinder her efforts. In the industry she chose, shitty security measures were always a plus.

Talc checked her phone again. Two to three. She looked up to see the two guards exiting the bank, keys in their hand, chatting with one another. Talc felt the need to sink down into her seat to avoid their gaze, as she was basically in their direct sight line, but that would be suspicious as hell. Grad's words rang an echo in her ears.

_Don't act suspicious or they'll suspect you. That's common sense. Be normal. Just...going to the bank to make a withdrawal. That's all._

Talc sighed once again, this time deeper and more disappointed. In some part of her, she knew that she shouldn't be doing this alone. Grad was her rock, her brains, her chill. Without her, she could barely ever get anything done. Talc was clumsy, shy, non commanding on her own. Grad was the aggression. No one ever took her seriously if Grad wasn't here.

Talc tightened her hold on the gun, feeling hot in her ears. No. She was going to prove that she could rob a bank--a real and proper bank--just as well as she could with Grad by her side. She was strong. She didn't need anyone to do this with. 

Talc looked up to see the guards getting inside a car together. After a moment, they backed up, and pulled out of the parking lot, no doubt on the way to Arby's, which is where they always went for their lunch break. How they managed to stay fit all this time, Talc never knew. One of the guards, Tony, always brought back a mozzarella stick for Gena, the bank teller. He totally had a crush on her, Talc concluded.

Once she was sure they were gone, Talc stepped out of the car, and slid the gun in the band of her jeans, covering it with her shirt. Then she walked as normally as one could into the bank, sliding into the line of people, trying to remain inconspicuous.

_I hope this goes well,_ Talc thought with the tone of someone getting ready to ask their crush out on a date. 

She didn't want to mess this up though. If she got caught--no, not if, when; it was always a matter of when--she would be able to see Grad again and tell her about how she pulled off a robbery all by herself. She didn't need anyone to help her!

"But of course I _want_ you," Talc saw herself adding with a wink.

In record time, it was Talc's turn at the teller. She smiled genially at the woman who Talc determined to be Gena, and she smiled back. Gena was pretty. Brown hair tied up in a slick ponytail and small amounts of makeup that brought out the blue of her eyes. Her smile was professional, yet friendly. No wonder Tony had a crush on her. 

"Hi ma'am, what can I do for you today?" Gena asked amiably. Talc smiled sympathetically, almost feeling bad for what she was about to do. She clasped her fingers behind her back, feeling the outline of the gun press into her hands.

"Um, yes," Talc replied, voice smooth and professional, "I would like to make a withdrawl."

Gena nodded--of course, who wasn't here to make a withdrawl? It was payday--and looked at Talc expectantly.

"Your number?" she asked.

"I don't have my number," said Talc. Her finger toyed with the edge of her shirt, inching towards the handle of the gun.

Gena faltered for just a moment, but regained herself quickly. These sorts of things must happen often enough. "Alright then, can I have your bank card?"

Talc nodded. "Of course." With a quick glance at the door, she made sure no one was about to enter or exit. If anyone was, they could always run out and alert the police. With another behind her, she made sure no one could grab her and wrestle the gun away (the young man standing like a porcelain doll behind her didn't seem like he'd put up much of a fight). And with a final glance in front of her, she looked again at Gena, who was no doubt wondering what the holdup was.

"Your card, miss?" asked Gena again. Her voice held the slightest tint of suspicion. But since her hands hadn't moved a single bit, Talc concluded that there was no security button hidden under the desk for her to press. Well, wasn't that perfect?

Talc grinned, her lips going up in an almost snarl. "Of course." Her voice was lower this time, more dangerous, focused. The exciting feeling of the cold metal gun shot out of her stomach, down her arm, and through her hand which snatched the gun out of the band of her jeans and pointed it inches from Gena's face.

All she did was gasp, and lean back in her chair a little bit. Pity. Talc expected a scream, or even a squeal. The other citizens inside the bank though had no qualms about screaming though. Talc whipped around.

"Everyone take their phones OUT of their pockets and put them on the floor and kick them over here. No one is calling the police!" No one moved for a second. "NOW!"

They complied the second time. Phones of all sizes and colors were slid towards her. Talc eyed one, and picked it up. She held it up. "A flip phone? Really? It's the 21st century you guys, catch up." She just sighed, and kicked the phones into a small pile near her. Then she remembered the tellers. 

"You guys too," Talc said, turning around and aiming the gun at the three of them. One of them had actually pulled their phone out in an attempt to sneakily call the police. She just tsked, snatching the phone and throwing it over her shoulder. "Nice try--" she peered at the name tag-- "Tiffany." Talc eyed Tiffany. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Pink lipstick that was just a tad overdone to be a bank teller. Talc nodded. "Yeah, you look like a Tiffany." She turned around.

"All right you guys, here's what's going to happen," she started, pacing back and forth slowly, "I'm going to take the money from the bank here. All of it." She indicated the purse she was holding, which was large and empty, just for this purpose. "I'm going to leave, the guards will come back from lunch, Gena will get her mozzarella stick from Tony--" Gena looked taken aback that Talc knew this-- "and by that time, one of you will have probably called the police. Feel free to do so. Tell them what I look like. Tell them what I sound like. Everyone always does." Talc pauses. Did she hear something? She glanced around. No one had moved. She must've imagined it. "I'll even help you with a description, since they always give the same one: Fat, white, short haired, brown haired, blue eyed woman robs bank at gunpoint." She refrained from adding, _Joined by her amazing, pretty, smart, and awesome partner, Grad._

Talc smiled casually to prevent her thoughts from showing on her face. "Everyone understand?"

Nods and yeses were given, and Talc made a satisfied little hum. "Perfect."

"So," a timid voice piped up, "you... You're not gonna hurt us?"

Talc turned around and saw a small child, no older than seven, clinging to his mother's leg. A small tear had ran down his cheek. 

She immediately felt awful, then she remembered. _That's what I forgot!_ she scolded herself. She always remembered to check to see if there were any kids in the bank before pulling out her gun. _No,_ her thoughts corrected, _Grad always checked that. Because you always forgot._

Damn it.

Talc walked over to the small boy, who cowered as she neared. His mother whimpered as she neared, snatching him up in her arms and holding him away. She glared at Talc. "Don't touch him," she spat. While a tad hurt, Talc understood. She'd do the same thing if she bothered to have kids. Regardless, she made sure to keep her voice low and steady, aimed at the boy.

"No, I'm not going to hurt you." The boy craned his neck to look at her. She hid the gun pointedly behind her back. "I promise I won't hurt you, okay?" She smiled as softly as she could. The boy nodded. 

"As for the rest of you--" she said as she whirled around. She began to continue, but a sound stopped her dead in her tracks at its familiarity. No. Goddamnit. It can't be. Already? It had only been like three minutes!

"The police!" a relieved man cried out. "We can leave!"

Talc pointed the gun in his direction, thumb on the safety. "No you can't. Take one step, I dare you."

Respectfully, the man didn't take another step.

"Who called them so early?" Talc demanded. No one answered. "Who did it?!" Grad would never be impressed with her now. Oh god, why did she think she could do this without her? "You weren't supposed to call until I was gone!"

"We couldn't have," someone said, "you have our phones."

Talc looked at the pile, and the lack of people next to it. Then it hit her.

She turned on Tiffany. "You have a button there, don't you?" she asked. Tiffany shook her head.

"No, I don't. He does." She pointed at the third teller, two seats down. "While you were distracted with me for those few seconds," Tiffany explained, much to Talc's frustration, "he pressed it."

Talc made a fist with her free hand. She should've checked all three of them. She should've. _Well usually it's easier to do with Grad here._

"Goddamnit!" she exclaimed.

"Attention!" came a voice from a megaphone.

Talc closed her eyes for a second to try and regain her composure. She stomped over to the glass door and looked out. Several cop cars were parked outside, cops sorrounding them, guns drawn. The one on the megaphone was a few steps from his car, speaking into it. 

"This is the police!" called the guy on the megaphone. 

"Wow, who would've guessed?" Talc mumbled under her breath. She turned around and went up to the teller who pressed the button. He shrunk into himself. "Where's the key that locks this place up?" When the guy didn't move right away, she held the gun in his face. "Give me the key!"

He pulled a chain of keys from his pocket and gave it to her.

"We have you sorrounded!" she could hear the police call.

Talc went up slowly to the boy and his mother. "Hey," she cooed at the boy, "I'm not gonna make you stay here okay? You have school in the morning, yeah?"

The boy nodded. She looked at his mom. "You guys can go. I'm about to lock the door. I'm not here to traumatize kids."

The mom muttered a frightened, "Thank you," before rushing out of the bank. She heard the mom yell to the police that, "there's other people in there!"

Talc sighed. This never would've happened if Grad were here.

She went up to and locked the door, waving amusedly so as to hide her annoyance at the cops who could no doubt see her through the glass. They didn't seem very entertained. With this, she took glee. If the cops were out there, and they haven't come in yet, odds are, they wouldn't be coming in any time soon.

"This, my friends," Talc announced, turning the key into the lock. She dropped it into her purse and spun around, perfectly theatrical, "is a hostage situation. Isn't that fun!"

Nobody answered her. Some were still terrified into silence. Some were just confused by Talc's demeanor, which she understood. The un-professional and easygoing personality that Talc portrayed as a bank robber gave a person an image of hanging out with friends on a crisp Tuesday night, instead of that of a person holding a gun. Because they already had an image of what bank robbers looked and sounded like: tall, commanding, beard of scruff and dressed in black from head to toe, yelling orders and shoving guns in people's mouths. Not...her. Talc. Who was wearing a brightly colored shirt and had a half shaved head, talking like she was giving a presentation on the history of ice cream. The gun in her hand seemed out of place held in her neon painted nails; her yells didn't fit her pink lipstick. 

Oh well. It helped with surprise attacks.

Talc ushered the bank tellers out from behind the desks and put them with the other patrons, who were slowly sitting in chairs, on the floor, wherever. Then, sure that everyone was in her sight line, she pulled up a spare chair and plopped into it.

"Well, gang, is anyone hungry?" Talc asked of the crew. "Because I'm pretty sure--" she turned to look out the door for just a second, watching a man not dressed in uniform take the megaphone-- "that the negotiation guy is going to ask what I want in about 3...2...1..."

"This is negotiations," said the negotiation guy, "I just want to talk with you."

"Beautiful," said Talc. "Like a well oiled machine." She stood, ready to yell through the door that she could totally use a cheese pizza right about now, when she heard a phone ring. She whirled around, looking at the group, who promptly refuted blame for the noise. Then she saw that one of the phones in the pile was vibrating and ringing, receiving a call from a strange number. She picked up the phone and answered it.

"Hello?"

"This is negotiations," said a man's voice.

"Ooh! Hi!" she paused. "How'd you get this number? Oh, wait, nevermind--" she remembered. The mother's phone. She must've given the police her number to call Talc from her phone.

"We want to help you," said the man in a steady voice.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk to me like I'm insane. I know what I'm doing is against the law, and I should be ashamed of myself, and blah blah blah. Is there anyone there who knows who I am? This would go a lot smoother if there were." Talc could hear a few confused words being exchanged before the negotiation guy talked again.

"Well, who are you?"

"You know my girlfriend, Grad? I'm Talc? We rob places all the time, it's like our thing."

"Well, where's Grad?" asked Neg Guy.

"Jail. She's in jail."

"So you're alone?" asked the Neg Guy cautiously.

"Yes, I'm alone, but I also happen to possess a loaded gun and a frustrated attitude because of the fact that you came too early."

Once again, some words exchanged that Talc couldn't hear. Then someone else was handed the phone. It was a woman.

"Talc? Talc Whitaker?" she asked.

Talc squinted at no one, trying to identify the voice. It sounded vaugely familar. "Yes, this is her. It's ten bucks for an autograph, just so you know."

"This is officer Catherine. We've... I've...arrested you several times."

Talc immediately beamed, sitting up higher in her chair. "Cathy, my girl! How are you doing? God it's been so long!"

"Sure has," said Cathy.

"Way too long, some might say," Talc mumbled. "Well, anyway, I'm sure you know the drill by now. What do I gotta do to get a pizza delivered to this spot?"

Cathy's voice was smooth, reassuring. Almost casual, but Talc wouldn't fall for that again. "I can get that for you. Is...there anything else you want?"

"Lemme check." Talc stood, using the gun in a sweeping gesture as she asked the group of people, "You guys want anything? Sweater? Food? I kinda have the entire economy on hand right now. Anyone vegan? I can get you vegan ice cream."

Much to her surprise, nobody wanted anything.

"Pizza will do. Also, I'd love to call my girlfriend and tell her about this. And maybe a car if you can get one? I don't imagine I'll make it far once I'm out of the building but I like having options if I happen to outrun your tasers."

"Grad's...in jail, you said?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Talc paced around absentmindedly as she talked, then suddenly stopped, smacking her forehead-- "Hey," she said to Tiffany, "You go get the money out of the vault, will ya? I almost forgot with all this police business." She took the key out of the purse and then tossed the purse at Tiffany. Tiffany picked it up and made her way to the vault. "And, hey." Tiffany stopped. "I realize you might want to be a hero or something, and I really don't want to hurt anyone, but if you try and pull something, I *will* shoot everyone here and it _will_ be your fault, okay?" Tiffany swallowed hard, and proceeded away.

"Don't. Shoot. Anybody," Cathy ordered. 

"Don't worry," assured Talc. "It's just a precaution. My end goal is to get out of here."

"You're sorrounded. Where do you think you will go, Ms. Whitaker?"

Talc almost snorted at that. "Ms? Just call me Talc. Can I get that pizza?"

Cathy stammered a moment. "Of...of course." Then a bit muffled, "She wants a pizza!"

Talc hung up.

"Pizza's on the way you guys," announced Talc to the group. "Anyone have a dairy intolerance?"

Gena was looking at the ground, but then, after a moment, she decided to speak up. "Who's your girlfriend?" she asked in a timid voice.

Talc looked over at her. When she caught her eyes, Gena looked back down quickly. 

"My girlfriend," Talc started as she sat back in her chair, "is Grad. We used to always do this together. You couldn't miss her: tall as all hell, poofiest head of hair you've ever seen, and her lipstick--" Talc made a kitty paw gesture-- _"meow."_

"And you...love...robbing banks...with her?" 

"Oh yeah!" sad Talc with an enthusiastic nod of her head. "It's what we do! We don't really have money, or jobs, so we got into that business. And, before you say anything, we don't kill people. Though, kissing them isn't against the rules." She paused, laughing. "You have no idea how many guys I've had to go straight for to distract 'em. And Grad too. Ah, heterosexuality, so gullible."

The phone rang. Talc picked it up. 

"We have your pizza," said Cathy.

"Oh! That was fast!" Talc sprung up from her seat and went over to the glass door, looking out. 

"There's a pizza place across from here," Cathy explained.

Sure enough, when Talc squinted, she could see the neon letters of a pizza place right across the street. Well, fancy that.

"Puts the fast in fast food I guess. Nice. Bring it inside."

Cathy stammered. Hesitating.

"What?" asked Talc. "Did you think I was going to walk outside and get it? Bring it inside yourself."

"Uh, o-okay."

Cathy hung up.

Talc watched with amusement as Cathy clumsily took the pizza in her hands, trying to balance her gun and the pizza at the same time, making her way to the door of the bank.

Something stirred inside of Talc, and suddenly an idea hit in the pit of her stomach. Not so much like a punch; more like an insistent poking. A small, distinctive plop. She smiled wickedly as she watched Cathy walk closer to the door, and she no longer had desire to eat that pizza.

"You guys might be gone soon," Talc said to the group as Cathy neared. A small rise of conversation burst from the group.

"Gone like, we'll be able to leave and go home?" asked a small voice Talc determined to be Gena.

"Yes," said Talc as she held the door open. A few muted cheers rang out amidst the group. Cathy walked through the door, looking at Talc with a subtle contempt. When she was through, the door was promptly locked once again.

"Ms. Whitaker," she said formally.

"Cath," replied Talc in the same fashion, with just a flare of playfulness hidden beneath. "You can set the pizza over there." She indicated the chair she had been sitting in. Cathy did so as Tiffany walked back in the room. The purse was near overflowing with money, stacks showing prominently at the top. She tossed it in Talc's direction with a glare.

"Thank you," she said, picking it up and setting it neatly next to the pizza. 

"I'm so getting fired," Tiffany mumbled as she made her way back to the group. Talc stopped her with a hand.

"No, wait. You might be leaving soon. All of you."

Cathy had her gun in her hand, finger toying the trigger, cautiously. "You'll let these people go? They're your..." she didn't finish.

Talc finished for her. "My only leverage, I know. But I think I'll have something more." She paused. Took a look at the group, then back at Cathy. "Let's trade one hostage for another," she said to Cathy. "I'll let them go--" she indicated the group with a vague gesture-- "if _you_ take their place."

Cathy's free hand balled up in an ever so subtle fist. If one wasn't looking, one would miss it. But Talc caught it. Caught the look on her face that told her that Cath knew she wouldn't be able to leave once she came inside. That little, tiny flick of her eyes over Talc's shoulder, the split second of debate: should she? Should she shoot Talc here and now? Should she risk her own life? Should she let these people go?

The glittering, loud badge on her chest demanded that Cathy stay, regardless of her choice. She sighed.

"Fine," agreed Cathy, contempt now clear and tangible in her voice.

Talc smirked like a devil. "Okay, guys, you can go. And like I said, don't skip on the details when you talk to the cops." Every word was said with her eyes trained on Cath. "Or take a picture," she said, her tone addressing both Cathy and the group, "it'll last longer."

The group didn't have to be told twice. Lile lightning they all rushed out of the bank, leaving Talc and Cathy alone.

Cathy's walky talky beeped. She leaned into it to listen. "All the hostages left?" asked an officer through the static. "Has she surrendered?"

Cathy, staring daggers into Talc, responded, "No, she hasn't surrendered. She's still armed. But I've taken the hostages' place. Don't send backup until I say so; I'm going to try to talk to her."

She didn't bother to hear the response from her fellow policeman. Instead, she stomped over to where the group was previously sitting, and stood there with one hand on her hip, the other on her gun.

"So."

Talc smiled. "So."

Cathy's hand fell off her gun. "Give yourself up, Ms. Whitaker. You have nowhere to go. There's police outside, and me in here. You're not getting out of here unless you're in cuffs."

"I mean, I could," said Talc, starting to pace ever so slowly. "If you'd let me."

Cathy scoffed. "That's not going to happen and you know it. Not again."

"Again?" Talc's tone went from playful so slightly accusatory. "So when I pinned you to the ground and punched you until you passed out, that was you just...letting me get away?"

From what seemed like instinct, Cathy's hand reached up and her fingertips traced the small scar that was just above her right eyebrow. Talc couldn't help smiling in delight.

"You're not helping your case," said Cathy, hand resting on her gun again. Talc tightened her grip on her own.

"I'm not trying to. I'm saying you owe me one."

Cathy looked offended. _"I_ owe _you?_ In what world!?"

"In this world. In the world where you fucked me over so hard I couldn't see straight for a week." Cathy stopped, face glossing over in a quiet, cautious anger. "In the world where I put my faith in you and you held it in your hands and then threw it in the gutter." Cathy's face started to turn the slightest bit red, and Talc reveled in her embarrassment. It had been so long of her sweeping all this under the rug, and Talc wad oh so happy to remind her. "In the world where you abandoned me. Left me in jail to rot like yesterday's tomatoes. Left me because you had some kind of giant epiphany of moral upstanding. In this world, Cath. This one."

Talc paused, looking at Cathy, who no longer was acting like an officer anymore, but a high schooler who looked like she just got caught cheating on a test. Talc needed to make a move now.

"Come on," said Talc, daring to take a step closer. "Come on Cath." Closer now. She was less than a foot away. She eased Cathy's hand off her gun, and wrapped her hand around her waist. "From one ex girlfriend to another."

Cathy pushed her away. "No, Talc. No."

"How about one criminal to another?"

"I'm not a criminal. Not anymore."

Talc tsked under her breath. "Well then how about one _bitch_ to another?" Cathy looked up on that one. "You owe me." And just for good measure, she raised her gun and pointed it at Cathy's head. "And you know my first option isn't to hurt anyone. But think I've got good reason. Passion is a common motive right?"

Cathy swallowed hard. She looked over Talc's shoulder, no doubt at the convoy of police waiting for an update outside. Then back at Talc. Her face fell, and Talc smiled once again. 

Cathy sighed. Her hand grabbed her gun again. "Just. This. Once." She glanced over her shoulder. "After this? We're strangers." Talc grinned.

"Of course," she agreed.

"But there's something I need you to do."

***

The sound of a gunshot alerted the police outside, and all at once, like a hive mind, they ran inside the bank, guns drawn. Perhaps they expected Cathy to be dead, and they were already scolding themselves for not closing in on Talc sooner.

But when they busted down the door of the bank, shattering the glass to get inside, all they saw was Cathy on the ground, clutching her ankle. There was no blood, except a few drops leading a small trail to the back door.

"I shot her! I got her in the arm!" cried Cathy. "But I--" she winced, gripping her ankle tighter-- " I twisted my ankle and, I fell. She got away. I'm so sorry." Her eyes were welled up with tears.

An officer leaned down and held her shoulder. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" 

"No, I'm fine. But...but I let her get away, I--" 

The officer stopped her with a hand. "It's okay. You did your best. We're just glad you aren't hurt."

Cathy smiled, a little disappointed.

***

The pain was so intense that it took all Talc had to focus on her breathing and her footsteps. She had shoved the gun in the band of her jeans and was holding her shoulder, hissing breaths through her teeth.

"You probably enjoyed that," Talc whispered to herself as she ran, feeling the purse filled to the brim with money banging against her back with every step. The steady thumps only aided in her pain. 

She stopped in an alleyway between two drug stores. Both were run down and tired from competing with one another, so business was slow. She leaned against the brick wall, trying to catch her breath. Blood stained her favorite shirt, and she looked down at where she'd been shot.

Clean through the shoulder, the bullet went. With a quick and painful probe (plus a loud string of curse words), Talc determined that the bullet wasn't even in her shoulder. Had it really shot right through? Well, Talc reasoned, it was at near point blank range.

For some reason, she smiled. And she suddenly found herself laughing, throwing her head back and full on cackling towards the sky. 

"I did it," she said to herself, breathless. "I actually fucking did it."

Talc reached into the purse, pulled out a hundred dollar bill, and walked into the drug store, smiling wider than she had been the entire day.

Grad would be proud.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, leave a comment. Please!


End file.
